


Oath of Love

by MirielOfGisborne



Series: Forget and Forgive [10]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Fluff, Domestic Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Overprotective Thorin, Poor Bilbo, Protective Thorin, Sick Bilbo, Sickfic, Thilbo, Thorin POV, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3813808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirielOfGisborne/pseuds/MirielOfGisborne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU/Married Bagginshield. Bilbo comes down with a cold. Thorin treats him to a bit of TLC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oath of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for sickfics, so this is my contribution to the genre :) It's not much, but if you read it, and you have the time, I'd love to hear what you think about it, so feel free to leave comments!
> 
> Thanks! Hope you like it!

Thorin barely saw where he was going. He only knew that he had to reach his chambers as swiftly as possible. It was still early in the evening, much earlier than he usually retired to bed, but it was not really to bed that he was rushing. Bilbo had woken up with a cold that morning. A bad one. In fact, Thorin had awakened him with a tense call of his name and a touch of his flaming forehead. Bilbo had stirred with an unwilling whimper and his eyelashes had fluttered like the wings of a moth worn by exhausting flight, sending Thorin in immediate search of Oin and of his sister, cursing himself for not having noticed the night before that something was not right with Bilbo. He had seemed slightly tired, but, at such a late hour, it had not occurred to Thorin to ask if perhaps it was more than that.

Neither Oin, nor Dis had declared the situation too dire. Bilbo had simply caught cold. It was nothing to be overly concerned about, and they both gave assurances that they had the matter well in hand. Thorin had been soon herded out of their bedroom, and on to his kingly affairs. Don’t worry, they’d said, he’s in good hands. As true as that latter statement was, on that day, Thorin had found it harder than usual to stop his thoughts from trailing off to the one he loved. Half of his heart had remained with him in their bed, clinging like dandelion seeds to his curled eyelashes.

But here he was now, finally free to go where he’d wanted to be all day.

As he found himself facing the door to his bedroom, he breathed to stay his rushing blood. Then he opened the door as silently as he could, and walked inside. There was a fire raging in the hearth, filling the room with more heat than he was accustomed to, but he had expected that. His sister sat in an armchair near the bed, her head leaning lazily against its back.

She turned to him as she heard his steps. “There you are,” she said, shifting in her seat for more comfort. “You’re early tonight.”

“You have been here all day,” said Thorin, unable to keep tension out of his voice, crouching beside her, and leaning against the arm of her chair.

“It’s all right to admit that you’re worried,” she said, brushing a loving hand against her brother’s face. “And it’s rather sweet.”

Thorin surrendered a little smile. “How is he?”

“He’ll live,” said Dis with a consoling look in her eyes. “He has a stubborn fever, and everything seems to hurt. I’ve barely managed to get him to eat a little.”

“Would a hot bath not help?”

“It would, but I think we should just let him rest for now. He’s been so ill today, the poor thing. I’m glad that he’s finally able to sleep properly.”

Thorin looked forlorn at the small mound under the furs covering the bed, and at the tuft of ruffled hazel hair sticking out into the pillow. It was all he could see of Bilbo from where he was. His sister’s account of his progress for the day stabbed at his already broken heart.

He felt her hand against his face again. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any supper?” she asked, in that same soothing tone that told him it really was nothing but a cold, no serious reason to feel broken-hearted.

He glanced at her. “No.” The last thing on his mind as he had rushed to his rooms had been supper, but now that it was mentioned, he realized that it did hold a certain appeal.

Dis smiled, and motioned to get up. “I’ll bring something over,” she said, standing and smoothing her robes.

“That is not necessary,” said Thorin, following her up.

She gave him a know-better, motherly glare. “I’ll bring something, you’ll be looking for it later.” She was younger and shorter than him, but she had a power to impose her opinion on domestic matters that he could have never thought to dispute. Yet, she also had a very tender heart. She perched herself up on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You’ve got a good one here, Thorin. Hold on to him.”

Thorin nodded. “Thank you, for everything.”

“He’s a much better patient than your nephews. Or than yourself,” she teased.

“He is better than me in many ways,” Thorin almost whispered.

Dis gave him a compassionate nod and a glint of affection from her eyes. “And yet he seems very fond of you, as are we all,” she said, tapping her fingers lightly against his chest.

Thorin returned a smile, then watched her walking slowly out of the room, remaining alone with his thoughts. He was very fond of Bilbo himself and he wished that he did not have to strain so in order to see him. Standing at his full height did not offer him a more generous view of the hobbit, as he still appeared entirely consumed by the large bed and plentiful covers. Thorin actually wondered how he was able to breathe, particularly with a stuffed nose. He sat down gingerly beside him and reached to lower the fur around his head, until he found a reasonable view of him without robbing Bilbo of the warmth that the cover provided and that he needed so much at that time. Bilbo slept on his belly, his left cheek sunken into his pillow, and his right hand at his side, gathered into a snug little fist. He did look like all he wanted to do at that moment was to sleep. And it really was not such a bad idea.

Thorin sighed and withdrew his hand, deciding to call it a night. Yet, as he bathed, he began to feel his stomach asking for the supper that he had refused moments before. Hopefully, the ever-mothering Dis would have kept her word. He hurried to finish his bath, threw on a pair of light trousers and went back into the bedroom, looking around for a tray of food. And it was there, on the small table near the fireplace.

He ate voraciously, and when his hunger was appeased, Thorin could not resist the urge to sit back a while and rub his full belly. Then he remembered poor Bilbo. He looked back towards his bed, where the hobbit lay with a less than content stomach, no doubt filled more with Oin’s teas than with food.

The least Thorin could do was to be with him. He got up from the table and slipped carefully into bed. Bilbo had his back to him, and so he could still not see him as he would have wanted. Thorin swept his hair back from his face and rose on an elbow to give him a kiss on the cheek. A fire blazed still too hot underneath his skin, but he looked comfortable enough. Thorin slumped back behind him, fingers still curled in the hobbit’s hair. Even if it was not very late, being warm, satiated and no longer anxious made Thorin fall asleep before he could really notice.

And then he woke up with a jolt. His eyes sprung wide open in spite of feeling completely disoriented as to where and when he was and what had happened to draw him so suddenly out of such deep sleep. There was the golden light of a candle in the room and he remembered. Bilbo sat on the edge of the bed, looking meek and frail, all wrapped up in a blanket. The sight of him filled Thorin’s heart with ache again.

“Bilbo?” he tried, sitting up. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” murmured Bilbo with a wisp of a nasal voice. He turned his head a bit to look at Thorin, but it seemed to hurt, or perhaps he simply didn’t have enough energy to turn fully. “I went to make tea.” He sipped weakly from a cup, and his hands trembled as he held on to it.

“Why did you not wake me? I could have brought it to you”.

“I did not want to disturb you.”

Thorin felt as if he had just been punched hard in the chest. He could not speak for a while and simply stared at Bilbo’s profile. Then he drew closer to his side. “You cared for me when I was ill,” he said, close to the hobbit’s ear. “Can I not do the same for you?”

Bilbo gazed at him with a growing smile that did not seem intent on contradicting him. If he had been able to see himself, he would have not thought to protest. He looked so utterly wretched that it would not have surprised Thorin if he had melted away in the following instant. His hair was sticking to his skin and his cheeks were pale instead of their usual healthy color of fresh roses.

Thorin raised a hand towards his neck. “Can I touch you? Does it hurt?”

Bilbo shook his head slowly, averting his gaze back to his cup of tea, and Thorin touched the back of his hand against the hobbit’s sweaty neck, and determined that it was thankfully no longer burning with fever. Bilbo contemplated the tea as if he had expected to find some important resolutions to life matters in it instead of simply drinking it. The little strength that had gotten him out of bed was obviously leaving him. Thorin leaned to place a light kiss on his cheek. “What would you say to a warm bath?”

“At this hour?” asked Bilbo, looking back to him with a tired lifting of his eyebrows.

“I have no idea what time it is,” said Thorin, slowly.

Bilbo tried turning up his nose for sarcasm. “It’s past midnight.” It did not have the usual effect.

“Why can I not give you a bath after midnight?” asked Thorin, running his fingers through Bilbo’s hair again.

“You have things to do tomorrow, Thorin. It’s late and you need to sleep.”

Thorin did not answer immediately. He simply sustained Bilbo’s gaze, wondering what exactly had made his sister think that he was a good patient. “I have nothing more important than you,” he purred eventually. “Come, you’re soaked. You need a change of clothes, anyway. And a bath will help you sleep better.”

Bilbo stared at him, seemingly accepting defeat, for lack of further arguments. Thorin removed the cup of tea from Bilbo’s hands, encountering no resistance, and placed it on the night table. Then, he unwrapped the blanket from around his shoulders and nudged him to lie back down.

“Just until I get the water ready,” he said, and Bilbo complied without further protest, looking infinitely grateful when his head rested on his pillow again.

Thorin covered him neatly. “I will not be long.”

When he returned, Bilbo was already asleep. His little quest for tea had taken its toll. Thorin drew the cover aside and carefully removed his sweat-soaked sleeping clothes. Bilbo moaned slightly at being handled, but did not really wake from his slumber. Then, Thorin scooped him up in his arms and carried him to the bathroom.

Bilbo opened his eyes when he was already in the tub, and Thorin was dabbing at his face with a nice, warm cloth.

“Mmm, I don’t remember getting here,” he said, shifting a bit in the water.

“I carried you,” said Thorin.

Bilbo looked at himself, strangely surprised to see that he was naked even if he was lying in a bath. “And you took my clothes off?”

“I did,” winked Thorin.

Bilbo smirked and lay back against the tub, letting his eyelids droop once more. “Not that there’s much to see in my current state.”

“There is always something for me to see. You are always beautiful, especially when you are not wearing your clothes.”

Bilbo peered at him through his eyelashes and they watched each other for a while. “I might say the same thing about you,” he teased, nodding towards Thorin, who had not even bothered to put a shirt on the moment he’d decided to go to bed.

Thorin returned the smirk, and Bilbo seemed to fall back to dozing. He remained that way as Thorin picked him up from the tub, took him back to bed and dressed him in fresh clothes. He only stirred later, when Thorin came to bed himself and put his arm around his waist.

“Feeling any better?” probed Thorin.

“Much,” said Bilbo, smiling, with his eyes still closed.

Thorin kissed the side of his forehead. “Your fever is returning” he said, laying his cheek against the hobbit’s.

Bilbo gave a faint moan of agreement, and then Thorin felt a tear trickle from the corner of his eye.

“Are you crying?” he asked, frowning down at the hobbit.

“No,” said Bilbo, chuckling and opening his eyes to look at him. “I have no reason to cry.”

Thorin relaxed. “It must be the cold then.”

Bilbo nodded and made himself more comfortable, lying on his back, under Thorin’s watchful eye and protective arm. He gazed at him for a while, looking serene in spite of his raging illness, then hid his face in his chest. Thorin settled at his side, embracing him. He could feel the heat radiating from Bilbo’s forehead right against his skin.

“Thorin?” hummed Bilbo, after a few good seconds.

“Yes?”

“I miss making love to you,” he lamented, his voice trailing mournful. “I wish I were not sick.”

Thorin glanced down at him, with a little smile. “Perhaps you will feel better tomorrow.”

“There’s an incentive,” laughed Bilbo.

Thorin joined in and they laughed together. Then, their eyes remained connected as they did when passion roused between them, only now it was just a shade of melancholy. “The truth is, I miss making love to you as well.”

“Then I really must hurry up and heal.”

Thorin caressed his face, making his touch as light as he could, and Bilbo burrowed back into his chest.

“I wish you did not have to fall ill so that I came earlier to bed,” Thorin continued.

“It’s all right, Thorin,” sighed the hobbit.

“No, it is not.” Thorin’s tone acquired a sudden harshness and Bilbo looked up at him. “On our wedding night I told you that my oath to you was as important to me as my oath to my people. I have not kept my word.”

“Thorin, you have great responsibilities, and this is a difficult time. You have a kingdom to rebuild,” said Bilbo, with as little reproach in his voice as there was in his words.

“But if I lose you-”

“You are not going to lose me.”

“I will, in time, if I keep acting as if you were not here. It is so silly. I walk with you in my thoughts all day, and when I finally get to see you, it is too late. That must change.”

Bilbo smiled to him, and then something sparkled in his eyes, something of his usual quick-witted self. “Really? You think about me all day?” he asked, cocking his eyebrows, and not looking one bit displeased. Thorin nodded. “Even when you’re discussing important matters of the kingdom?”

“Especially then.”

“Well, most of it is quite boring,” quipped Bilbo, and this time, the effect was better accomplished.

Thorin smiled back. “That is not why I think of you.”

“Mmm,” approved Bilbo, and snuggled back into Thorin’s arms. “Good night, my love,” he said, resting a hot hand on the dwarf’s waist.

“Good night,” replied Thorin, fulfilling a sudden need to take a deep breath. His heart was whole again, and glowing, and, for a moment, he even felt as if he needed more room for it in his chest. As soon as he was comfortable, his eyes fell shut, and sleep came easily and sweetly.


End file.
